


Out of the Ashes

by tryslora



Series: A Kind of Magic [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of the Hale Fire, Angst, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Fire, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Laura’s death, Derek goes back to the burnt out husk of Hale Manor. Stiles obviously needs to save him from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> And this is the third piece of this series written for Prompt #7 - Fire for fullmoon_ficlet on Livejournal. Once again, I wrote about Derek/Kate, and I needed to write the bookend piece from later in the timeline for Derek/Stiles.
> 
> As always, I do not own the world/characters of Teen Wolf; I just like to play with them.

Stiles expected it to be bad, but not _this_ bad.

He flies overhead once, trying to get the lay of the land. Most of the manor house is gone, and a good part of the grounds are burnt as well. It looks like the flames reached the outlying houses—maybe a greenhouse, and a barn, and something else Stiles can’t even identify. The walls reach up like black bones towards the sky, twisted and burnt, a skeleton cast in ashes.

It’s not much of an inheritance, he figures.

The only places that aren’t blackened are the woods and the practice pitch. He spots Derek hanging mid-air in front of the rings, his broom swaying as if getting ready to block invisible Quaffles from going through. Stiles looks at him and can see the shadow of the arrogant fifteen year old he first met so many years ago.

He coasts down slowly, giving Derek plenty of time to spot him. “I could throw Quaffles at you,” he calls out. “Although given the mood you’re in, I’m betting Bludgers would be better. Let them bash into you. It’s easier to sulk when there’s a reason for the pain.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek pulls up on the handle and rolls his broom, twisting into a dive. Stiles follows more carefully. He may be a good flyer now, but he’ll never be as good as Derek’s effortless technique.

Stiles hops off the broom as soon as he’s close to the ground, sending it towards the side of the pitch, out of the way. “No, I won’t shut up. You’re here sulking, and we need you, Derek. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a—” He cuts off as Derek roars, teeth bared and sharp, eyes a brilliant red.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Laura is _dead_ ,” he growls. “ _You_ go back and fight.”

Stiles moves in careful steps. He knows how Derek is, how easy it would be for him to lash out. That’s why Stiles is the one who’s here. He’s the only one they thought who might have a chance of coming out of this alive. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Can’t do that, dude. Not without you. See, if I can figure out you’re here, _anyone_ can figure out you’re here. And we need you. Which means you can’t sit around waiting to be ambushed. You dying isn’t going to help anyone.”

Derek growls a warning, and Stiles stops where he is, hands up, palms flat and fingers wide.

“I get that you’re upset. We _all_ get that. And you should mourn. Laura was… she’s sodding brilliant, dude. No one’s ever going to forget that. But eveything passes to _you_ now, and maybe when it’s over we can all just collapse into a puddle of miserable goo and cry about our losses…” Stiles takes a step back at the snarl. “Okay, or not. We could just go beat each other to bits on the pitch instead and get out our frustrations that way. But my point is, both sides lost someone yesterday. We _hurt_ them, and they know they hurt us. They hurt us bad. So the best thing we can do for Laura is finish this up.”

He moves forward by inches as he speaks until he ends up right in front of Derek, hands against his chest. He can feel the breath heaving, the rapidfire beat of Derek’s heart, and Stiles knows his own beats in time with it. Slightly panicked, worried… the only way through is in, so Stiles wraps his arms around Derek and leans into him, pressing heart to heart and cheek to cheek.

“I miss her too,” he whispers.

The growl is choked, Derek’s shoulders shaking as his body shudders. Claws dig into Stiles’s back, pulling at his shirt and striping ribbons over his skin beneath it. Stiles closes his eyes and holds on, not saying a word while Derek shatters.

Tears squeeze from Stiles’s eyes. Laura wasn’t _his_ sister, but she was still _Laura_ and there’s absolutely no replacement for her. They weren’t close until recently, but now he can’t imagine life without her. He hiccups, and Derek noses his throat. A sniffle, and Derek’s mouth moves to Stiles’s cheek, licking salty tears away, then a gentle kiss to the corner of his eyes. Stiles turns to meet him, mouth to mouth in a wash of salt and mild heat.

The kiss breaks and Stiles leans against him, forehead to forehead. “I know it’s not the same,” he says quietly, “but you’ve got me.”

“I let Kate in.”

Stiles draws back; Derek looks as surprised by his words as Stiles is to hear them. “What?”

Derek takes a low, shuddering breath. “When I was fifteen. I let Kate Argent through our wards. So I could have sex with her. In the barn. She… she made sure Laura and I couldn’t tell anyone. Spell must’ve broken when she died.”

Stiles’s mind races, trying to process this with what he knows. That the fire happened when Derek was fifteen, that Christmas holiday when the Hales all disappeared. That Derek feels _responsible_ for it.

Merlin, it explains so many things.

“I’m not Kate,” he says quietly. “And neither are you, Derek. I’m pretty sure that neither of us wants to kill each other, and when this is done we’re going to live peacefully ever after to a long old age. Whether that’s together like _this_ ,” Stiles kisses him quickly, “or not remains to be seen. But I’ve got your back for as long as you need me there.”

The tension slips out of Derek and Stiles pulls him closer again, helping support him. Slow kisses to reassure—no heat, just comfort in the touch and feel of them.

“C’mon. Everyone needs to see your growly face.” Stiles summons their brooms but doesn’t let go of Derek, one arm wrapped around his waist. “And we’ve got a war to win. Ready?”

He is relieved when Derek simply nods. “Ready.”

Together they twist and disappear.


End file.
